


Seven-oh-three (three-oh)

by Augustus



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-13
Updated: 2006-02-13
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: JC is sure it's an important day.





	

The telephone woke Chris at exactly three minutes past seven. Even through sleep-heavy eyes, the neon numbers on his bedside clock were too horrible to be overlooked. It'd be Justin, he figured, somewhere out of the country - where was he this week? London? Japan? - and too wrapped up in whatever news he had to calculate the time difference. Two minutes worth of interested grunts and Chris would be free to go back to sleep. He could do this. He could. Just as soon as he could will his hand to pick the damn thing up.

Sighing, he finally managed to close his fingers around the handset, lifting it to his ear and silencing the godforsaken ringing. 'What?'

'There's something important about today's date,' the caller replied, not bothering to identify himself or say hello. 'It's driving me crazy not knowing what it is.'

Groaning inwardly, Chris let his weight drop back onto the mattress. So much for a quick call. 'Morning, C.'

'Oh. Morning,' JC replied, as though it had only just occurred to him that it was the more common way to begin a call. 'How're things?'

'Sleepy. Do you know what time it is?'

There was a long pause at the other end. 'Nine?' he offered finally, not sounding at all convinced.

'Try seven.' Well, five past, now, but Chris hardly felt that it was the time for such minor details. 'You of all people should appreciate the sanctity of sleep, my friend.'

'I've been up since five trying to work out what day it is,' JC admitted. 

Chris yawned, shaking his head to try to clear it of the last remaining vestiges of sleep. As insane as JC's mental paths often were, there was something knocking at the edge of his own consciousness, something that was stating in a high pitched and annoying voice that Chris knew full well what today was. 'What's the date again?'

'The eighth. Of August,' JC added, rather extraneously. 

The rest of his sleep fog dissolving, Chris burst into delighted laughter. 'You're fantastic! You do know that, don't you?'

Chris could practically _hear_ JC's frown at the other end of the line. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Happy birthday, C.'

There was another long silence, followed eventually by a bemused 'oh'.

It was a talent, and Chris knew it. Of all the people he'd met in life, only JC had the ability to turn Chris's mood from homicidal to gleeful in the space of a minute. It was impossible to stay mad at him, no matter how early the hour. 

'You see, this is why I love you. If anyone else called me on their birthday, going on about not knowing what day it is, it'd be some kind of annoying scheme to get me to cover them in birthday praise. But you?' Chris paused for a moment, feeling a little like his elated grin was about to split his face in two. 'You genuinely forgot your own birthday. Only you, C. Only you.'

JC's tone was a little sheepish when he replied, but it was obvious that he was mildly flattered nonetheless. 'Does this mean I don't get the birthday praise?'

'You get whatever praise you ask for. Well...' Chris never saw any point in wasting good teasing opportunities, birthday or not. 'I'm going to have to put a moratorium on hair praise until you do something about that _thing_ you're trying to pass off as a style.'

'And this is coming from the king of couture, I suppose.'

'Something like that.' 

JC laughed. 'You're mad.'

'It's seven am. I'm _allowed_ to be mad.' Stretching, Chris kicked back the bedclothes and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. 'So what are we doing today?'

'Doing?' 

'I'm awake at a hideous hour, and therefore it's your duty to entertain me. Oh, and there's that whole birthday thing as well,' Chris added, as though it were an afterthought. 'It's only right that we make public nuisances of ourselves, prank call Joey or do something else equally as amusing. I'll expect you in an hour.'

'An hour?' JC snorted. 'Chris, I'm in New York.'

Chris thought for all of two seconds. 'Make it four hours, then. If you're _really_ good I'll meet you at the airport.'

' _If_ I can get a flight, that is.'

Chris grinned. 'You're a celebrity, C. Pull some strings. I'm worth it.'

'Buy me lunch and I'll consider it.'

'I always knew you were a cheap date.' Chris laughed at the snort of indignation that came from the other end of the line. 'How about I buy you lunch _and_ treat you to a night of unbridled passion at the luxurious Kirkpatrick abode?'

JC's reply was instantaneous. 'Deal. I'll call you when I know what time my flight gets in.'

'You do that.' Making a supreme effort, Chris got to his feet. 'See you later, okay?'

'Sure.' 

Chris was about to hang up when he heard a 'wait!' from JC.

'What's wrong now?' he asked, raising the receiver to his ear once more. 

'I'm thirty.' JC's voice was stunned.

Shaking his head, Chris couldn't help but smile. 'Happens to the best of us. Now, don't you have a plane to catch?'

'But I'm _thirty_.'

'I really don't think the airline will care.' 

'Do you think I _look_ thirty?' JC went on, a plaintive tone creeping into his voice.

'At the rate you're going, you'll look _eighty_ by the time you get here,' Chris replied, frustrated. 'Do you want birthday sex or not?'

This time there was a short pause before JC answered. 'I'll be there around twelve.'

'You can check for grey hairs in the bathroom on the plane. I'm pretty sure I saw a couple in the press photos from that premier last week.'

Laughing, Chris hung up to the sound of JC's horrified squawk. He'd seen nothing of the sort, of course, but not even JC could wake him at seven without appropriate punishment. And, if Chris's calculations were correct, by the time he met JC at the airport he'd be such a mess of age-related panic that he'd have forgotten all about the promise of lunch... which meant straight back to Chris's place for plenty of reassuring sex. 

'You're a genius, Kirkpatrick,' he told himself, and started to hum as he picked out the day's clothes.


End file.
